


Sister's Keeper

by RedTeamShark



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossdressing, Mistaken Identity, Other, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, betrothal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: He thinks of his sister, proud and strong. Her chin up, shoulders squared, eyes unwavering. His body shifts, mirrors the pose he’s seen her in so often, and his gaze meets the man she’s been all but sold to.The man he’ll marry in her stead.--Perc’ildan betrothal AU. Vex’ahlia has been unwillingly betrothed to Percival de Rolo of Whitestone and her brother, Vax’ildan, has a plan: he’ll take her place and run away when the moment is right. Unfortunately, the risks are higher than he calculated.





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn’t need to be in the room to see the scene, listening at the door is enough. Inside their father will be at the desk, sat forward with his hands folded as if he’s having a _reasonable_ conversation. Vex will be standing, fists clenched at her side, eyes blazing with all of the ferocity she has. The door is barely open an inch and he eases closer, presses his ear to it and focuses.

“I will _not_ be sold off like chattel to some--some--some political alliance at your whim!”

“Vex’ahlia, this is not a subject for debate or discussion. An alliance with the de Rolos of Whitestone is beneficial to all sides.” The impassivity sparks rage inside him, the urge to act. Vax’ildan swallows his anger, calls the mental image of his sister on the archery field. Patience. Tension. When the right moment comes, that’s when to strike.

She’s always been better at it than he has.

The door hits the wall behind it with a thud, no subtlety or stealth in Vax’s entrance. “Father, you can’t just force her to marry someone--”

“I don’t recall seeking your opinion on this. Nor inviting you into my study.” The cold tone curls fear into his stomach, his steps wavering until he looks to his sister. Her eyes are on him, shining as if he’s actually saved her from something. Her hand reaches out, takes his and squeezes briefly.

“Then…” He squeezes her hand back, his eyes on the window behind his father. It’s easier if he doesn’t have to look at the man. “Then allow me to escort her.”

“I will… consider it. You’re both dismissed.” They turn to leave with hands still locked together, one brief look between them. “And Vax’ildan, I expect to see you back here tonight to… apologize for your rudeness.”

* * *

 Vex’ahlia’s hands stroke through his hair as he lays with his head in her lap, soft humming on her lips. The song their mother sang when they were children, the sound of comfort and safety. The tune hitches in her breath now and again and once more he doesn’t need to look to see her. The shine of tears in her eyes is a too-familiar site these days.

“I have a plan,” Vax whispers into the room, his hand creeping across the duvet cover and finding hers. “Father will allow me to escort you, to bid you farewell… And when we are away from him, from his listening…”

“Vax, we can’t run away. I don’t like this either, but… It’s bigger than what we want.”

He rolls onto his back, looks at his sister. His beloved, perfect sister. His hand reaches up, holds her cheek as his thumb gently brushes a tear from her lashes. “It’s not running away this time.” He sits up slowly, leans in and kisses her forehead. “Get some rest, Vex. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Before he slips from the window he lights the candle beside it, their ages-old signal of safe passage in and out. If it’s lit when he returns he can sneak in. If it’s out, he’s safer waiting outside.

Vax vanishes into the night like a shadow, off to solidify the plan that has been forming in his mind since the announcement that afternoon.

* * *

 The carriage ride to Whitestone is more than a week, plenty of time for them to put this plan to action. Plenty of time for Vex to say, over and over, that what he’s proposing is stupid.

“You’re supposed to _consummate_ a marriage, Vax, and there are some things that he’s bound to notice.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Her eyes narrow, lips pursing together. “This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. What, are you going to stab him dead on your wedding night?”

“No. But…” He reaches across the carriage, takes her hands as they bump along the road. There are escorts, a driver and two guards, but all of them are outside, away from their whispered conversation. “But I can’t let Father sell you off like this. And I can’t return there without you. You’ll have fulfilled your duty and I’ll have run away. It will buy us time.”

She squeezes his hands in hers, leans across the narrow space between them and pitches her voice lower. “Then let’s do _that_ instead of this foolishness. This charade you want to perform could cause a war for all we know.”

Vax lifts his sister’s hands, kisses her knuckles with a grin. “Then let there be war. Tonight, when we stop to sleep, we’ll sneak away and you’ll begin my lessons. I’ve got more than a week to learn to be a proper lady.”

It’s easier said than done. Sneaking away from the guard is child’s play, something they’ve been doing for years. Vex brings extra clothes, lets him change in a bush and assesses his look in her clothing.

“This is never going to work.”

“Not with that attitude.” He stumbles as he steps in her heels, lifting his skirt and frowning. “How do you _walk_ in these?’

“Slowly, brother.”

“Ha. Ha.” He moves to her with more confidence, more grace, drops the skirt and bows low. “I am Lady Vex’ahlia,” Vax whispers in falsetto, stumbling as his sister smacks his arm.

“First off, ladies don’t bow, they curtsey. And second, I don’t sound like that!” She smacks him again for good measure, takes a step backwards and demonstrates a curtsey for his observation. “Left toes pointed behind your right ankle, bend your knees not your waist, keep your head down. Hold your skirt to the sides so it doesn’t bunch and fold or touch the dirt.”

Vax stares blankly for a moment, watching as Vex repeats the motions. He shifts his weight to try, nearly falls and catches himself on a tree. “Maybe I should convince him that elves go barefoot for all occasions.”

“Maybe we should start with learning how to walk,” Vex returns dryly, taking his arm in her hands. “Stand upright. You’re going to have to get used to that when we put you in a corset.”

“A corset?”

“This,” her hand brushes the bodice of the dress, “should not be flat like that. We’re going to have to get you some shaping, perhaps find something to fill… certain gaps. That will come later. For now, one step at a time. Place your heel down first, then your toe.”

The moon is high in the sky by the time Vax starts to grasp it, strolling back and forth across the uneven dirt under his sister’s critical eye. She refines her corrections until he has it close enough, smiles with satisfaction. “This is why you should have paid attention in those etiquette lessons.”

“I feel like my ankles are going to snap.”

“You’ll adjust to it. You’re used to sneaking around on your tiptoes, switching to heel down first is going to make you a very noisy walker. Practice when you can while we travel.”

In the dark of the carriage as they go, Vex laces him into one of her corsets. They search their collected belongings for something to stuff the front with, finally settling on a pair of her sheer leggings. Vax’s dagger cuts them in half with a low tearing noise, the twins carefully balling the fabric to simulate breasts under his clothes. Unless they can find something more apt in one of the towns they pass, it will have to do.

Two days away from Whitestone they put together the entire assembly, Vex’ahlia’s critical eye on him as she does his make up, laces his corset, and looks him over. He curtsies to her as he’s practiced, wobbles for only a moment before standing, eyes demurely on the ground. His hands fold at the front of the dress, masking the awkward shape of his chest.

“Some sort of magic would fix this whole… problem,” she mutters, waving a hand over his chest. “But it also would need to be reapplied to frequently. And this…” Vex’s hand is deft, reaches to his side and draws the dagger from the folds of his dress. “They’ll think you enter with intention of murder, brother.”

“Oh, but sister,” he takes the dagger from her, tosses it into the air and catches it, “this is merely a gift from my dear twin, a ceremonial piece to remind me of him.” His voice is high, soft, not the falsetto of the first night but also not quite his sister’s tone. It’s feminine, at least, not parodic. “I don’t believe it could even cut fabric, but I do like to keep it close to me.”

The excuse will have to do. They’ve both been through too much to even consider entering somewhere unarmed.

The fine features of elves are passably ambiguous, especially to a human’s uncritical eye. Percival de Rolo and his staff will be none the wiser. In the moonlight, with the dress and make up and demure set of Vax’s frame, even Vex is half-convinced he’s become a woman through magic rather than practicality.

“I think this just might work… For a time.”

“Time is what we need.”

Time which is drawing desperately short, the white stone of the mountains closing around them. The city lies in the mountain valley, shadowed by the peaks it takes its name from. Vax looks among the make up in the carriage, attempting to learn it like schoolwork. His sister has always been more brilliant with such processes.

They approach the guard as they reach the city, speak with eager pleas for Vax to be allowed to escort Vex alone for the final leg. No one in Castle Whitestone knows what Vex looks like, but their personal guard is bound to notice if the one who leaves the carriage is black-haired instead of brown. Wheedling and begging and promising finally gets the guard to relent, to remind them of the dangers of doing something reckless.

Vax sits beside his sister at the front the next day, waves the guards off and drives the horses forward. They begin up the winding path from the village to the castle, into the thick trees that surround it. Once they’re out of sight they stop the horses, hop down and begin the final preparations.

Vex pulls on shapeless clothing, tucks her hair under a low driver’s cap. She’ll neither speak nor move until Vax is away, until the carriage has been emptied. The things she’ll keep for herself they stash beside the road, bury under tree branches and dead leaves.

It takes longer to prepare Vax, to make him passable in the cloudy daylight. Vex looks him over with a final critical eye, kisses his cheek and holds his hands tightly.

“We can still run away. Together.”

“Father will search for us.” He kisses her forehead, squeezes her hands in his. “He won’t search for just me.”

“Vax’ildan, you’re a fool and a nuisance… And the best brother I could ask for. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Vex’ahlia.”

They embrace, warm and tight and close, take in the feeling of each other. It won’t be the last time, if this plan works, but there’s no certainty when the next time will be.

He sits back in the carriage as his sister drives it forward to the castle, tries to calm his heart pounding in his chest. One hand plays idly with his dagger, spinning it and catching it, picking lightly at nonexistent dirt under his painted nail. When the carriage stops and voices speak outside it he tucks the dagger away, sits upright and schools his face into a careful blank.

He has done this for his sister, whom he loves more than he has ever loved another living creature. He has done this for her freedom, for her safety, for the sake of the light inside her not being snuffed out.

Vax’ildan exits the carriage with the help of one of the de Rolo servants, his steps slow and cautious, his eyes staring straight ahead. His mind itches to look back, to see his sister away, but that won’t do. Instead he speaks over his shoulder, his voice light. “Thank you. Once the carriage is empty, you may return to my father and give word of my safe arrival.”

* * *

 He can do this, he thinks as he steps into Castle Whitestone. Servants bring his things from the carriage inside and up a flight of stairs, directed by a hulking form of a man carrying a massive warhammer.

He can do this, he thinks as he’s led away down a different hall, into a small antechamber with complex spell scrollings on the floor. An armored gnome woman approaches him, bows low and he returns a curtsey without even a shake.

“Hello, my name is Pike Trickfoot, Cleric of the de Rolos. I’d like to ask you some questions, Vex’ahlia.” Her clear eyes meet his face and there’s not even a moment of frowning scrutiny.

“Of course,” he returns in his soft, feminized voice, hands folding in front of his skirt. There’s a crawling sensation at the back of his mind, something magical poking into his brain.

“Have you brought a weapon with you?”

Thoughts of the dagger spring to his mind, denial on his tongue. “I have a dagger.”

“May I see it?” Vax hands it over without a word, his hands trembling slightly. The gnome, Pike Trickfoot, assesses the blade, turning it over in her fingers. “Do you intend harm with this?”

“No.” The truth is easier this time, until his mouth begins to move faster than his mind. “It was a gift from my twin.” He bites his tongue before he can say more, his eyes on the dagger. If he cannot lie, then he should not speak more than necessary.

“Are you trained with it?”

“Father had us both train in a number of fields. Fencing, archery, some arcane arts… As well as statesmanship and etiquette.” His cheeks are burning, his eyes following the blade as she turns it in her hands.

“I suppose if you intend no harm and it’s a reminder of someone dear to you, it won’t hurt to allow you to keep it… But I’d like to have it tested for magical properties in the future, if you’re okay with that.”

“Perhaps,” he answers quickly, taking the dagger back and slowly tucking it into the side of his cincher again. His eyes trail to Pike, lingering on her face for possibly too long.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you that a truth spell has been cast in this room. I’d like you to tell me how this marriage arrangement came to your attention.” Her eyes have narrowed fractionally since she handed the blade back, studying him closely.

Vax forces himself to speak slowly, to choose his words carefully. “Father was in his study. He called for one of us--myself and my twin--and we both went. Neither of us likes to be alone there. He spoke of the political benefits of the marriage arrangement, of the necessity of it. I… was displeased. The next day he announced when the carriage would be leaving for Whitestone. And since then we’ve been traveling here.”

“Displeased?”

“A political marriage arrangement to a stranger sounds an awful lot like being sold.”

Pike nods, reaches for his hand and squeezes it briefly. “Percy is a good man, Vex’ahlia. If you give him a chance, I’m certain he’ll make you happy.”

“Perhaps…” The needling sensation drifts out of the back of his mind, his eyes clearer. A lie comes to his mind, something small, something to test. “I do hope I’ll be able to visit Father on occasion, though.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear. Come, there are a few other… necessities before you meet your betrothed.”

He can do this, he thinks as he leaves the truth room. That was difficult but not impossible. And if they trust him, they won’t test him again.

He can’t do this, he thinks as Pike stops in front of another woman, looking into her face before darting his gaze away. Her fine features speak of high breeding, her eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. A human, a gnome, a zone of truth can’t pry this secret from him.

But the gaze of a fellow half-elf all but screams that he’s been caught.

“Keyleth, of the Air Ashari,” Pike introduces him, the two half-elves quickly giving each other curtsies. “She’ll be your personal aid and guard here at Whitestone and away. Please, ask her for anything you need, Vex’ahlia.” The gnome smiles, bows her head and leaves them in the room. Vax looks around desperately, swallowing his fear. It’s another mostly empty chamber, an ornate door on the far side from where he entered.

“Vex’ahlia?” Keyleth’s voice is low, her eyes still on his face. “If I… could be a bit forward…”

“I don’t intend any harm.” He doesn’t affect the feminine tone to his voice, meets her gaze steadily. “I said it under the truth spell, and I mean it. There’s no ill will here.”

“Who are you?”

“Vax’ildan. Vex’s twin brother.” The truth spills from his lips without the nag of magic. Perhaps if he’s honest now, they’ll take mercy on him.

“And where is Vex’ahlia?”

“She’s left the area, run away. Neither of us wanted this union and neither of us wanted to return to our father. Truly, I intend no harm to the de Rolos or this alliance. I only wish to protect my sister.”

She reaches forward, a light breeze in her movement as she brushes his hair behind his ear momentarily. Vax shivers into the touch, gentleness from a stranger who’s just caught him in a deception. “I’m going to trust you, for now. I’ll keep your secret. But…” Her fingers pinch his ear, tug as her voice grows harsh. “If you are lying about your intentions, I won’t hesitate to destroy you.”

Keyleth gives him a moment to collect himself, smiles and steps behind his left shoulder. “Protecting someone you love is admirable. And…” she speaks low, voice directly in his burning ear, “there are less trustworthy people in this castle than someone who comes clean as soon as he’s caught.”

There isn’t time to respond, is barely time to process the words and the warnings. The doors at the far side of the room swing open and with a hand on his arm Keyleth guides him forward.

He can do this. He thinks of his sister, proud and strong. Her chin up, shoulders squared, eyes unwavering. His body shifts, mirrors the pose he’s seen her in so often, and his gaze meets the man she’s been all but sold to.

The man he’ll marry in her stead.


	2. Chapter 2

Lord Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. Vax approaches slowly with Keyleth behind him, stops when she touches his arm. He moves on shaking legs, eyes down as he curtsies before looking up to meet the man’s gaze.

He’s… young. Handsome. Vax has expected someone at least his father’s age, possibly older based on the name, the title, the status. What he hadn’t expected was a young man, possibly not even out of his teenaged years, looking ragged beyond that. There are others in the room, Vax’s eyes picking across each of them. The hulking man that had been at the stairs as his sister’s things were brought in steps to Percy’s side, arms crossed and eyes on him. To his other side sit two people, man and woman, their forms regal, composed. 

The silence sits heavy between them for a heartbeat, two. Then Percy smiles, stands and bows low to him. “Vex’ahlia… It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He steps to Vax, takes his hand and kisses the knuckles lightly. “I hope your trip to Whitestone was pleasant.”

Vax studies his face for perhaps too long, his gaze softening, the nerves easing. He looks down, lips twitching into a smile. “It was an easy ride.”

“I’m glad.” His eyes dart to Keyleth, a short nod. “Keyleth will escort you to your room, help you settle in… And I hope you’ll join me for dinner tonight.” His voice lowers, words only for Vax’s ears. “We should… begin getting used to each other.”

“I’d be honored.” He walks away when dismissed, marks each person in the room with a keen eye as Keyleth leads him out and up the stairs. 

His things are stacked in a corner of the room, a large bed made up in soft sheets. A desk, a dresser, a doorway to a bathing chamber. Vax looks around slowly, stepping over and touching a finger to the bed. When the door closes he looks over his shoulder, eyes on Keyleth.

“We’re alone here,” she assures him, her lips twitching into a smile. “So tell me, what do you intend to do?”

“I…” He kicks the heels off under his skirt, crossing to the chest in the corner and opening it. “I intend to learn as much as I can before I act. My sister and I have a… history of running away. If this becomes unsafe, I can run.”

“I’m not entirely sure I can let you do that.”

“Then help things stay safe, hm?” He grins, pulls the cloak from the chest and wraps it around himself. “I swear to you, I have no ill will here. My goals are to protect my sister.” And to pass a small ‘fuck you’ to their father, but that’s secondary. 

“And my obligations are to protect Percy. I’m not the only one here with that goal.” She leans on the door, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Yes, the others in that room… Tell me about them?” Two more daggers slip from the chest into holders on the cloak, before putting the entire thing back into the chest. “The tall one at his side and the two others sitting behind him.”

“The tall one is Grog Strongjaw, Goliath and personal protector of Percy. The same role I have to you, basically. The man behind him was… Sylas Briarwood.” He can hear the distaste in her voice, unmasked for a moment. “Political advisor. The woman was Delilah Briarwood, magical advisor. They also have acted as heads of state until Percy reached the appropriate age after…” She trails away, her fingers rubbing her arm. “Perhaps you’re better asking your husband about his family history.”

“Briarwoods, siblings or spouses?”

“Spouses. They’ve been trusted friends of the de Rolos for years.” Keyleth’s eyes settle on him, watching as he moves to the window. “What are you doing?”

“Just… observing. I don’t intend to run away in the middle of the night, no worries. Whitestone is different from where I grew up or where my father lives, I’m sort of… curious about it.” There’s a clear line from his window to the outside wall, no obstacles but no cover. He makes a note of it, skimming the treeline beyond the wall. Nothing. “These forests are so dense, and the mountain we passed through… What sort of rock is that?”

“Whitestone, the rock that gives this place its name. Its history.” Keyleth’s footsteps are light as she joins him at the window, her hand touching his back. “Did you see the Sun Tree?”

“The Sun Tree?” He follows the line of her arm as she points towards the town, the towering, green tree in the middle of the low buildings. “It’s huge…”

“It’s where life comes from, here in Whitestone. Well, according to legend. You should ask Percy about it at dinner, if you’re curious about the area. And speaking of dinner… We should get you ready. A bath, proper clothing, and… Well, I can help you with your, ah, appearance.” Her hand guides him away from the window, lightly pushes him to the bathing chamber. “I’ll leave you to that alone, of course.”

Vax glances at her, sees the red on her cheeks and grins. “Probably for the best regardless.” He lets himself into the room, presses the door shut and leans against it, exhaling slowly. He strips off the dress and underclothes, breathes deep without the press of the corset. The leggings that are posing as his breasts he carefully sets aside, moving to the bath and drawing warm water into the tub. Heels, corsets, stiff formal movements… He has a new respect for his sister’s ability to handle any sort of formal occasion with the dignity and grace she shows. And a new understanding of her irritability the next day. It’s not just the slew of upturned noses at their heritage or the expectations of perfection placed on them by their father.

He slips into the water with a sigh, feeling his hair fan over his shoulders as he sinks lower. Warmth seeps into him, fingers finding soap and a soft cloth as he begins to clean himself. He’ll have to sneak Vex into here, let her relax in the luxury. It’s not fair to leave her in the woods fending for herself while he sits pretty in a castle.

Under the water, soaking his hair and lathering it with softer soaps, the warm, earthy scents overwhelming his senses. He sinks below the surface again, rinses off and exhales his breath into the warm, soapy water. When his lungs start to burn he pulls up, breathing deep. As much as he wants to relax here, enjoy the moments of peace, there’s too many things to do. Too many questions to ask. He drains the water, refills the tub to rinse off and drains it again. Wrapping himself in a soft towel and putting another around his hair, he leaves the bathing room, flushing as Keyleth quickly looks away. 

Once the smooth, silky underclothes are in place he lowers the towel, taking a slow breath. “Would you mind… assisting with the rest?”

“Of course.” Her fingers move over the laces of the corset, pulling them taut and tying them in place. He tucks the balled leggings into the front, shapes them carefully to look close enough to breasts. “We should find something more… appropriate for that.”

“If it’s possible, though I don’t want to raise suspicions by asking.” He looks among the dresses, picking one out almost at random and holding it up. “This seems… nice?”

Keyleth laughs, shaking her head and moving to the chest, sorting through it quickly. “For a dinner? No. That dress is for a walk around the castle grounds at most. Here.” She presses a pile of blue and black fabric into his hands, smiles and tucks his hair back over his shoulder. “I’ll do your hair for you, as well. And your make up.”

“That… would be appreciated.” He slips the dress over his head, turns and allows Keyleth to lace it up the back over his corset. The fabric is soft, layered, weighty as it covers him. It swishes against his legs, clings to his arms but hangs off his shoulders. Keyleth leads him to the small dressing table, turns him in front of the mirror before instructing him to sit. 

“You look lovely. I’m sure Percy will be near speechless.” She smiles over his shoulder, lifts a brush and begins slowly working it through his hair. 

“I don’t know how anyone wears things like this for extended periods of time,” he admits, eyes closing, muscles relaxing as the brush works his hair smooth.

“With spite.” She leaves to the chest, digs through it and brings back a small blue and black flower that matches the dress. Nimble fingers clip it into a small piece of his hair, pushing it back behind his ear. Keyleth twists and turns his hair around her fingers, braids it down from the flower clip and ties it off to hang beside his ear. “Hmm…” She tilts his head lightly side to side, nodding. “Perfect.”

Vax turns to face her, somewhat glad to be looking away from the mirror. He knows it’s him, but something about it… Something about it almost looks like a stranger. He closes his eyes, lets Keyleth paint his face with subtle make up. Line his eyes, dust his cheeks with faint color, paint his lips with a light tint. “Subtlety is key with make up. I’ll teach you what I can.” She turns him back to the mirror and he stares at himself, reaching up and touching his cheek lightly.

“I…” His fingers pull away without disrupting the powder, eyes darting away from the mirror to Keyleth. “It’s like looking at my sister… Thank you.”

* * *

It’s not just himself and Percy, which is a small wonder. Servants pass in and out of the room, fill plates from the grand buffet to the side as the others settle in at the rounded table. The Briarwoods to Percy’s left, Grog to his right. Keyleth beside Grog, Vax settled next to her. On his other side sits Pike, someone he hasn’t yet met beside her. The male gnome leans over, offering a bold hand.

“Scanlan Shorthalt, the pleasure’s all yours.”

He bites in a laugh and only nods, taking away his hand as Pike smacks Scanlan’s arm. “Indeed.”

“He’s harmless, I promise,” Pike whispers, absently smacking Scanlan’s hand as it creeps toward her plate. “Unless you’re particularly slow in protecting your belongings.”

“I think I’ll manage.”

Percy clears his throat a few seats down, lightly tapping his knife to his glass for attention. Conversation stills around the table, the servants slipping silently out the doors. After another moment Grog looks up from his meal, his chewing slowing to a stop. “Sorry.”

“I just wanted to formally welcome you to Whitestone, Vex’ahlia. I’m glad you could join me for dinner and…” He looks briefly to one of the Briarwoods, his eyebrows drawn together for a moment before smoothing out. “And you look lovely.”

“I’m very glad to join you. Perhaps…” He can feel eyes on him, tries hard not to break Percy’s gaze to check. “Perhaps after dinner, you can show me around the castle. It’d be nice to get to talk.”

“Actually--” Sylas Briarwood starts, interrupted by Percy’s words before he can speak.

“That would be lovely.”

“Sire, your duties to--” Sylas tries again, once more cut off.

“My duties to my people extend to my future as well.” The tone brokers no more argument, his eyes still on Vax. “And your happiness is very important to the future of Whitestone.”

The awkward moment holds another beat before Grog clears his throat to break it. “Can I eat now?”

Conversation at dinner flows easily, questions of where “Vex” is from, her history, her lineage. A bit too personal, if he’s being honest, but he navigates them easily. They’ve barely been separated since they were born, his answers are her answers. Except… “I’m quite adept with archery, actually. My brother chose skills revolving around close quarters cunning with a blade, but I find the distance to be… particularly refined. The patience of some of the masters back in Syngorn is something to marvel at.” His mouth is running ahead of his brain and he slams on the brakes, covers the awkward pause with a light laugh and a sip of wine. Yes, Vex is amazing with a bow and arrow, but if they ask him to demonstrate these skills it’s surely going to raise some questions. “Unfortunately, I didn’t bring them with me here. I was… concerned they’d give the wrong impression.”

“I’m sure we can set you up with something if you’d like to continue to hone your skills,” Scanlan offers, his grin beaming. “Speaking of honing skills, I’ve a new song that was just completed this afternoon. It goes a little something like this…” From the folds of his clothes he produces a small wind instrument, blowing into it quickly. “ _ Some _ body _ once told me Percy was gonna owe me another hundred gold in his debt. He was lookin’ kinda dumb with the barrel of his gun in two pieces on the floor of his homestead _ .” 

The jovial laughter at the tune (a bit embarrassed on Percy’s part, from the flush on his cheeks) doesn’t reach the Briarwoods, the two exchanging a look of raised eyebrows. Delilah speaks, her words slow and deliberate. “Perhaps the dinner table isn’t the best place for music.” Her hand lifts, gently pushed the instrument back down. Stillness takes the group of them and from the corner of his eye, Vax sees nervous looks exchanged among the servants.

“Perhaps…” Pike speaks up, breaks the tense mood with her soft words. “Vex’ahlia would like to know some things about us, rather than being the one answering all the questions.” She turns to Vax, her smile soft and genuine. “Anything you wish to know, dear.”

“Oh, well…” His mind races, darts from question to question. “Actually, I was curious about…” Keyleth’s hand touches his thigh under the table, traces a gentle pattern through the fabric of his dress. A leaf. “The Sun Tree. I saw it as I came through town, it’s marvelous. I don’t know that there’s a tree that large anywhere in Syngorn. Is there a story behind it?”

“It’s half-legend, but… yes.” Percy catches his eye and smiles, looks around the table before beginning to tell the tale. "They say that before the castle was built, that the journey into the valley was treacherous and stormy, and the original builders of Whitestone Castle feared they'd die. This one great tree stood in the valley, and it was underneath it that they took shelter, and as they began to take shelter, the storm broke, and the storm did not return until the castle was completed. It’s said that Pelor himself planted that tree and that he brings the sunlight to the valley which nurtures it and allows it to grow, even in the coldest times. There are festivals held under the tree throughout the year, on the Dawn’s Day, Winter’s Crest, and the like. We’ll have to attend one sometime.”

“That’s amazing…” The awe in his voice isn’t feigned at all, Vax only barely remembering to pitch his words higher. “I look forward to it.”

Dinner wraps up shortly, dishes cleared away and people rising to leave. Percy walks around the table, offers Vax his arm. “Shall we take that tour of the castle now?”

“Of course.” He settles his hand on Percy’s arm as Vex has done to him so many times, a lady ready to be escorted. “I know so little about Whitestone, I can’t wait for you to show me.”

Keyleth and Grog fall in behind him, the others scattered to the far reaches of the castle. Percy strolls through wide, high-ceilinged halls, pointing out different features of architecture and uses of rooms. Vax keeps his smile plain, asks questions when he feels they’re necessary, and tries not to be bored. Handsome and polite he may be, but Percy seems to be just another noble full of his own self-importance. He’s shadowed Vex on similar walks in Syngorn, with those who weren’t put off by her half-elf status. 

“Would you like to see the gardens?” Percy offers as they come to the main foyer, his gaze drifting past Vax for a moment to the stairs. “Or if you’re tired from your journey, we could look in the daylight.”

“The gardens sound lovely.” And, to his surprise, they do. Percy leads him outside, among flowers in the moonlight, along a narrow path to a blinding white fountain that sprays silver in the glow. Vax sits down at the bench there, watches as Percy plucks a flower from one of the nearby bushes and gently tucks it into the braid.

“Lovely…” He’s so close that Vax can almost taste the word on his own lips. Fingers stroke over his jaw for a moment, tilt his head up until their eyes lock. “If I’m being honest with you, Vex’ahlia, I was… uncertain about the concept of an arranged marriage. I’ve always believed in marrying for love, not status or political favor. And when Sylas told me of the plan, of your father’s eagerness to form an alliance, but said nothing of your own opinions, I feared the worst. But…” His thumb brushes Vax’s hair behind his ear gently, his eyes serious. “But if you’re interested in giving me a chance, I’d like to get to know you. To see if perhaps we can meet an arrangement that satisfies all sides.”

“I’d like that,” Vax answers, startling himself with the honesty in his words. He smiles, reaches up and sets his hand gently over Percy’s. “It may take some time… Getting to know each other, adjusting to life here in Whitestone, but I am certainly willing to put forth the effort to find us all happy.” He tilts his head down when Percy leans in, allows lips to press to his forehead. “There is… one small request.” 

“Anything, Vex’ahlia.”

“Will you call me Vex? It’s less of a mouthful and,” sounds more like Vax so he runs less of a risk of not responding if addressed, “it’s what others who I’m close to call me.”

“Vex… I quite like that. I’ll remember it.” Percy sits beside him on the bench, a respectful distance away now. His fingers skim the water’s surface in the fountain, flicking droplets onto the smooth white stone. “They say that white stone from these mountains has innate magical properties, and if the beauty of the site of you next to it is any indicator, I’d say they’re particularly strong tonight.”

“Flatterer.” His fingers curl in his skirt, eyes on the ground rather than Percy. His cheeks are burning, he’s surely flushed red even in the moonlight. Beautiful… Desirable. Things he’s never quite thought of himself as. But it’s not him. It’s Vex’ahlia, or the illusion of her, that has drawn this near-stranger’s thrall. Vax stands abruptly, nearly stumbles in his shoes. “I should get some sleep. It has been a long journey.” He doesn’t look back when Percy calls for him (for Vex), only slows when Keyleth’s hand catches his own.

She guides him back to his room, helps him down to his intimate clothes and leaves with the door shut. Vax changes himself into breeches and a loose shirt, extinguishing all the candles except one by the window. He pulls on flat-soled boots and wraps the cloak around himself before sitting down next to the glass, awaiting the signal from Vex. He needs to see her, tonight.

* * *

She hugs him, holds him tight in the darkness of the woods for a long moment. Vex’ahlia moves him to arms length, looks him up and down and then pulls him in again. “Is it terrible, brother?”

“It’s not so bad, but…” He squeezes her just as close, runs his hand up and down her back. “I missed you.” 

“The woods here are safe enough as long as I stay off the mountain.” He sees her look down, follows her gaze to where a fresh bandage is wrapped around her lower leg. It nearly glows in the moonlight and he tears a strip from his dark shirt without pause, kneels down and covers the bandage with it.

“You found that out the hard way, didn’t you?”

“Oh, shut up.” Her hand smacks the back of his head as he stands, fingers once more finding his and holding tight. “What do we do?”

“I have an idea… A plan. Percival is not so set on this marriage to force me into it… Though I fear his word is not the final say in that castle. If things between us… simply do not come to proper fruition, I believe he’ll grant me leave back to Father. And then you and I will run away together. No more of Father’s rules, no more of Syngorn’s sneering looks. We’ll find our own way in the world.” He wraps his arms around her again, holds her tight and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Tomorrow night, I’ll sneak you into the castle with me. Get you some proper food, a bath, clean clothing. As much as I can.” Other than Keyleth and Grog, he’s seen little in the way of security. Guards seem more interested in protecting the town that spreads out before the castle, and no wonder. There are small flickering lights among the mountain peaks, an early warning system of danger from any side. 

“Please be careful, Vax…” She grasps his chin, turns him to face her. “If this doesn’t work, we both run away together. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He stays out late with her, hunting and setting up camp. Helping her get as comfortable of a place to sleep as possible. Going to town and renting a room at the inn is too risky right now, with whispers of her arrival in the air. 

Vax climbs back into the castle under the last vestiges of nightfall, drops into bed naked and filthy with the night’s work as the sun begins to crest over the horizon. He sleeps until nearly noon between the soft sheets, his dreams alternately plagued by recreations of Percy’s warm lips on his forehead and the Briarwoods cool gazes at dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

Whitestone isn’t so bad, really. The town is quiet, mostly farmland and those that work it. Percy takes him around to the Sun Tree, to a number of shops, to some of the higher ranking officials. It’s boring, mostly, about what Vax would expect from the royal treatment. And there’s something about the ever-present feeling of being followed, even knowing it’s by allies, that keeps him on edge.

His nights are better, sneaking out to see Vex, helping her back into the castle proper. The two of them slip along the halls to the empty kitchen, pilfer supplies that will get her through another few days. If Keyleth hears them from her room across the hall she doesn’t act on it, only looks at the growing dark circles under his eyes with knowing arched eyebrows before covering them with make up.

“The castle staff think we have a ghost,” she warns him one afternoon as Vax dresses for dinner. “Whispers in the night, shadows in the halls. They’ve asked Pike to perform a cleansing ritual on the kitchen. Tonight.”

Vax closes his eyes, holds his breath as she tightens the corset. “Just the kitchen?”

“For tonight. It seems that’s where most of the… activity has come from. And Pike will do it, if it makes them feel better.” She pats his shoulder, squeezing briefly. “You’ve been warned.”

He can’t sneak Vex in for supplies while such an activity is going on, of course. Vax changes himself into more appropriate clothes after sunset, slips out the window and across the castle grounds. He’s almost over the exterior wall when someone lets out a shout from behind him, a cry to halt.

He grabs the top of the stone wall, hauls himself up and leaps over to the ground beneath. One hand grasps Vex’s arm as he runs, pulling her along into the shadowed trees. They climb the first one it seems safe to do so, nudge themselves into the dark cover of leaves in a fork of branches. Vex’s hands glow for a moment with magic, the footsteps below them fading from the dirt.

Two hours spent in silence, huddled together in the tree, before they decide it’s safe. Vax takes his sister’s hands, turns them over in his and studies her fingers. “You’ve been holding out on me. That was magic.”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think, brother. I’ve known how to use that spell for years.” She lets him kiss her fingertips before pulling away, leaping down from the tree and turning away from the castle. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Someone?” She’s met someone while living out in the woods of Whitestone? Impressive. Vax follows his sister’s easy guidance through the forest, one hand on his dagger. She has her bow out and at the ready, lowers it as they approach a cave. 

From inside comes a low noise, almost a growl. “Trinket, darling, it’s okay. It’s me,” Vex calls. Vax watches, his eyes narrowed, as a hulking shape slowly comes forth from the cave.

“Vex,” he whispers as brown fur nearly engulfs his sister.

“ _ Vex _ ,” he tries again, more pressing, as she rubs her hands against a belly twice her size.

“Vex’ahlia that’s a freaking  _ bear _ !” Vax finally gets her to stop making kissy noises at the beast, his dagger still at the ready. Two sets of eyes turn to him, somehow equally confused.

“Very astute, brother. His name is Trinket and he is  _ adorable _ .”

This is not, Vax reflects, the strangest thing his sister has ever done.

“And he gives excellent deep tissue massages. Really, you should try it.”

Scratch that, it  _ is _ the strangest thing she’s ever done.

Trinket approaches him slowly, sniffs at him and makes another low growl in the back of his throat. One huge paw lifts and Vax instinctively moves his arm up to block the blow, his mind offering flashes of how much it will probably hurt to die when this bear rips his throat out. Instead the paw bats the back of his head, pulls him in close to a warm, furry body in what he assumes is a hug. Trinket licks a slobbery kiss up one side of his face before releasing him, padding back to the cave.

“That…” He wipes his face slowly, aware of Vex’s grin. “That bear just gave me a kiss.” Okay, so maybe he  _ is _ adorable. 

He can’t spend as long with his sister as he’d like tonight, needing the cover of darkness to sneak back into the castle. Vax lies in wait at the treeline, observes as the guards make their rounds. More frequent, stretching farther. He’ll have to keep an ear to the ground while inside. Apparently it’s not just the servants concerned about ghosts like Keyleth said.

Between two patrols he makes his break for it, scales to his window and slips inside. Exhaustion drops him to the bed still mostly dressed, only his cloak and boots left by the window.

* * *

He’s halfway out the window, one leg slung over it, when there’s a short knock at his door. Vax stills, waits a moment with his breath held. The only light in the room is the candle beside him, to all outsiders he should look asleep.

“Vex? Are you awake?” Percy’s voice, so wrenched with care that he can’t help but answer.

“Percival? I’m just preparing to sleep. Is… is something wrong?” He slips away from the window on silent feet, takes the candle to the bedside table.

“It’s… May I come in? If you’re decent, of course.”

“Oh, just… just a moment.” He yanks off the cloak and boots, tucks them into one of the chests. Pants and shirt follow, replaced with one of the nightdresses he’s never bothered to wear. Vax looks himself over, hissing at his own appearance. This isn’t even close to passably female. He adds a pair of short pants under the nightdress, pulls a housecoat around it and drapes his hair over the front of his shoulders to cover hs chest. Better. “Okay, you can come in.”

The door creaks open, the light in the room increasing as Percy steps in with his own candle. He’s half-dressed as well, loose sleeping trousers and a long shirt rather than the usual fanciment he adorns himself in. “I don’t mean to disturb you, or… or be untoward, but the guards have reported… concerning things, of late. Someone sneaking about near the castle grounds, possibly sneaking  _ into _ the castle. I’ve discussed it and… For tonight, at least, it’s felt it will be safer if we, ah, share a room. Keyleth and Grog will be outside of it the whole night.”

“Share… a room…” He steps to the bed, picks up his own candle and cups his hand over it. “Which room would that be?”

“Mine offers a bit more security, there’s an exterior guard station just under my window. And… again, I mean nothing untoward. My bed is large enough that I’m sure we’ll be able to sleep comfortably without… crossing boundaries.”

Vax’s chest clenches at the warmth in Percy’s voice, the earnestness in offering him safety as well as comfort. His sister can wait for one night and the two of them can be more careful moving forward. He crosses the room to the door, gives Percy the softest smile he can manage. “I suppose for our safety, it would be for the best. I do hope there’s nothing dangerous happening.”

They walk together through the dimly lit halls, Keyleth and Grog flanking them to either side. Vax gives her a sidelong look, sees the minute shrug of her shoulders. No assistance with his charade there.

Percy’s room is larger than his, dominated not by a bed as he’d expect but by a sprawling series of desks covered in papers and small workings. Vax looks to them curiously, the room too dim for proper inspection. Shoved off nearly in a corner is the bed, a narrow passage between it and the wall with fresh scrapes along the floor. It appears access to this side of the bed was just recently created. Two doorways lead to either side, the drip of water from the left leading him to suspect a bathing chamber. The one on the right is tightly shut, no clues about what lies beyond.

Easing along between the bed and the wall he sets the candle on the small table beside it, glancing over to the opposite side with a brief grin. Another change made for him, it seems. Percy’s back is to him, his own candle lighting a portion of his desk, and Vax takes the opportunity to remove the housecoat before slipping between the sheets. He leans over, blows out the candle and curls up on his side.

“I’ll be along shortly,” Percy calls back to him, the soft scratch of writings on paper.

“Okay…” It’s a soothing sound, Vax finds. Percy’s little hums of thought, the fits and starts of his writings. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll be able to come by while more properly dressed, look at the papers and ask questions. He knows many things about Percy’s life as a ruler, but very little about the man himself, it occurs.

Sleep takes him before the thoughts can cement too deeply in his mind, easy rest free of conflicting dreams.

“Mmm…” Vax groans softly, his head tilting, seeking the steady movement that has stirred him from sleep. His eyes remain closed, hands curling in the fabric below him. Against his ear is a steady heartbeat, rhythmic, lulling him back towards sleep. Fingers glide through his hair, along his scalp and down his back before lifting, repeating from the top again.

It’s so soothing, so relaxing, so easy to fall into. But there’s something unfamiliar about the comfort… His sister has stroked his hair in such a way many times, while he lays with his head in her lap, but this isn’t the feel of her legs below him. This steady pulsing sound against his ear doesn’t belong to his sister, the slow rise and fall of breath--

He tenses, eyes opening, darting around the room. Percy’s hand stills in his hair, soft murmurs from above him. “Shh… sorry, its just me… I was just…” Vax sits up, lets his hair spill over his shoulders and the nightdress fall forward in an attempt to mask the flatness of his chest. “I should--I should get up.”

The movements are stiff, awkward, a bit too quick and there’s a tint of red on Percy’s cheeks. Vax sucks in a breath as he leaves the bed, rolling to the other side and grabbing his housecoat from the floor. “Percival…”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, but you rolled over and, well, you looked so  _ content _ there--”

“That felt nice.” His cheeks are just as red, his eyes on the nearby wall rather than face the man on the other side of the room. “My…” He clears his throat, forces himself to speak louder while keeping the feminine tone. “My brother used to stroke my hair like that when we were younger and I was upset.”

“Do you miss him?” Percy’s words are closer, the sheets tugging as he leans some of his weight on the bed. 

Vax keeps his back turned, pulling his hair over his shoulders and breathing slowly. “Every day.”

The mattress creaks for a moment and Vax darts a look over his shoulder, sees Percy sitting on the opposite side of the bed, his back turned. His head is down, hands splayed in his lap. “I have a sister… Cassandra. Younger than me but so much wiser. She’s currently away in Emon for schooling, and I miss her every day.”

“Percy…” He rises, walks around the bed to stand before the man. One hand lightly brushes through short white-blond hair, pulling him gently forward. “You speak of her as my brother speaks of me… and I’m certain she speaks of you as I speak of him. I cannot wait to meet her.” He tilts Percy’s head up slightly, lips curling into a playful smile. “But fair warning, if she’s anything like me, she’s going to end up telling all  _ sorts _ of embarrassing stories about you growing up.”

“I have just as many about her.” His hands lift, settle on Vax’s hips for a moment and squeeze. It’s intimate, far closer than he wants to be, but there’s something about it… He feels safe, in this room, with this man. As if nothing bad could happen.

The knock at the door interrupts, pulls them away from each other as if they’ve done something wrong. Vax pulls his housecoat a bit tighter around himself, stepping back as Percy goes to the door. 

“Yes, Keyleth, she’s awake… Of course…” Low voices between them as Percy beckons him forward, into Keyleth’s charge to return to his room. 

Vax hesitates at the door, touches a hand to Percy’s arm. “Tomorrow night…”

“You’ll be back in your own room, if you wish. Seems that the guards found our intruders, local boys in some sort of club initiation to break into the castle. Irritating, but ultimately harmless,” Keyleth answers instead, her arm dropping over Vax’s shoulders and guiding him away. Once they’re a fair distance she speaks again, her voice much quieter. “Or at least that’s what these boys said, but you know… They didn’t provide a lot of details.”

His sister is too clever by half. He’ll have to remember to brag about that one, as well.

* * *

Between Percy and Keyleth, he had a fair understanding of his way around Whitestone. While Keyleth nearly constantly shadowed him, Vax was allowed to wander the castle and grounds at will. He’d already discovered two massive libraries, a training ground for bow and blade, a number of empty bedrooms, and a whole wing dedicated to pretense and ceremony. It was perhaps not the largest castle in Tal’Dorei, but it was massive nonetheless, an easy place to get lost in if he didn’t have Keyleth to guide him back to familiar grounds.

The outside was just as sprawling, winding garden paths lined with trees and flowers, fountains like the one Percival had taken him to that first night. Small secluded areas of benches and grasses for private respite, larger swaths of short-trimmed grass for outdoor gatherings. It took him nearly a week and more than a few calls for Keyleth’s assistance before he found the center of the massive hedge maze that dominated the east side of the garden, a small shrine within. 

Vax approaches the shine slowly, hearing Keyleth’s footsteps still around the corner. His foot touches the first step, ready to bring him up and inside, and his blood turns to ice. Involuntarily, he shivers, the bright sunshine of spring suddenly gone from overhead. In an instant the feeling passes, cut off by a voice that startles him off the step.

“You’re better off leaving that alone.”

The words freeze his breath, his hand dropping to his side--but of course, there’s no dagger there, only the folds of his skirt. He turns slowly, sees his previously unnoticed companion. Delilah Briarwood.

“Why?” The word croaks from his throat, adrenaline shaking his voice. He licks his lips, tries again. “If I may ask, what is it?”

“That…” She approaches him as Keyleth rounds the corner and stops, her back straightening. Delilah’s hand on his arm is firm, her fingers curling over his bicep and leading him away from the shrine. “That is a memory of worse things that have happened in this castle, my girl. Things you should wait to be shown, rather than coming to your own conclusions.”

“Vex’ahlia.” Keyleth’s voice, low and almost pleading, draws his attention away from Delilah. “She’s right. Come, I’ll take you back to the entrance.”

Vax pulls his eyes away from Keyleth, sees the movement of Delilah’s free hand towards him. His fingers catch hers, squeezing briefly before forcing himself to relax. “I won’t seek out conclusions, then… But if there are places I should not tread, perhaps inform me next time, rather than scaring the daylights out of me when I’m already there.”

“Of course. Now, off you go.” The grip on his arm finally eases, pushes him towards Keyleth. She wraps an arm over his shoulders, leads the way back to the entrance of the maze.

“What was that, Keyleth?” Vax asks once they’re away, his head tilting back, looking towards the high hedges.

“You’re better talking to Percy about it…” She purses her lips, shaking her head briefly. “Alone. Come, now, let’s get ready for dinner.”

By the end of dinner it’s out of his mind. The shrine at the center of the maze. The conversation with Delilah Briarwood. He may as well have dreamed them up.

* * *

Pike escorts him to his room that night rather than Keyleth, her usually sunny attitude subdued. Vax walks slowly, looks over his shoulder as they approach the door to make sure they’re alone. “Pike… Where’s Keyleth?”

“She’s in… a meeting. With the Briarwoods.” Her eyes dart to either side of the hall, voice pitching lower. “She may have… stepped out of bounds today. Politically.”

“I don’t…” His memory of the day is fuzzy. Hadn’t they just wandered the gardens for most of the afternoon? “Is she in trouble?”

“Nothing of the sort. They just…” Pike takes a slow breath, reaches into the chest plate of her armor and removes a small disk, a symbol carved into it. “Do you know of Sarenrea?”

“Of course. The Everlight, yes?”

“Yes… or the Dawnflower. I… I work in her service first, in the de Rolo’s second. If you’ll take it, I’d like you to hold onto this. It’s a small blessing of hers.” She hands him the token, her smile growing as he tucks it up the sleeve of his dress. “Sometimes… Sometimes dark things come about. It’s good to remember that the dawn always follows.”

“Thank you, Pike. I’ll be sure to keep it.” It’s warm against his skin, a small glow of ever-present light that seems to slowly cover his entire body, spreading out from where it touches his skin. He feels… safe. Protected. “Will Keyleth be back in the morning?”

“I’m certain. And Vex’ahlia?”

“Yes?”

“If you could… don’t mention to anyone that I gave you that.”

His brows draw together for a moment, before he nods. “Of course. Our secret.”


	4. Chapter 4

His life these last few weeks has been full of secrets and surprises. Secrets like the Blessing of Sarenrae he tucks against his skin in the morning as he dresses. Surprises like whatever the hell Percy is carrying.

“What…  _ is _ that?” His awe almost overwhelms his acting, eyes wide, watching as the man approaches the target range.

“This is Bad News,” Percy answers, shouldering the contraption of metal and closing one eye behind his glasses. “It’s my new gun.” Scanlan’s ditty from the first night flashes through his mind for a moment. Gun.

“Gun.”

“Sort of like a bow and arrow, but…” Hands come up behind Vax, press over his ears and muffle the roar as smoke and fire lick from the end of the metal barrel. Down the range, a target nearly disintegrates. Percy lowers the weapon, turning back to him. “But louder. Thanks, Grog.”

“No problem.” 

Despite the large hands that muffled the noise, his ears are still ringing when Grog lets go. “That… um… wow.”

“It’s a big gun.”

Vax turns to the target, slowly walking down the range and inspecting what’s left of it. “Um.”

“Sorry, I know it can be… overwhelming. I don’t usually test when there are others here.” Percy’s footsteps join him, a hand resting on his shoulder. “Would you like to see the other one?”

He sets his hand over Percy’s, stands slowly and looks him up and down. This is not a noble who sits lofty on a throne. The notes in his bedroom, the small constructs on the desk, the strange noises he’s heard in the castle… “You created this?”

“I did.”

“All on your own?”

“I had some… inspiration. I don’t know if I’d call it divine, but…” Percy’s smile fades for a moment, his lips turning down. “Does it frighten you, Vex?”

Vax’s headshake is quick, firm. “It’s very… interesting. If you want to show me more, I’d like that.”

The other door in Percy’s bedroom leads down a narrow hallway to a workshop of sorts. A hot forge spills glowing red light across the room, instruments of metal lined along the walls. Percy shows him around the room with confidence, with pride, and Vax finds his gaze drifting to the man more and more frequently. He’s handsome when he smiles, beautiful when his face lights up with excitement, and perfect when he suddenly becomes giddy, almost childish.

“Percy…” Vax lifts a daring hand, touches the man’s jaw gently to grab his attention. “Would you mind if I came down here and watched you work sometimes? It’s far out of my understanding, but…” This isn’t the charade of Vex talking, he has to be careful. He’s letting himself show through too much. “But I hardly get to see you most days.”

Percy’s hand closes over his, head turning so that he can kiss Vax’s palm. “I’ll send for you when I come here to work, and if you wish to join me, you’re welcome.” He leans forward, kisses the half-elf’s forehead with a smile. “And don’t feel like you have to stick around if it becomes boring.”

\--

Nearly a month at Whitestone, the sun rising earlier every day, setting later every night. Vax does his best to keep with his sister, but he can feel her drifting, can feel the way she pulls away towards the woods. His heart screams to hold her tighter, to never let her go, but his mind speaks more clearly. He is not their father, he will not chain her in any way.

“Vax…” She reaches up, touches his cheek as they sit in a tree under the moonlight. “Why don’t you run away? It’s been long enough, I don’t think Father will search for us. He hasn’t even sent word. And…”

He shakes his head into her hand, takes a bite of one of the apples he pilfered from the kitchen before coming out here. “I can’t explain it. Something… Something draws me to that place. Every time I leave, I want to go back.”

“Something, or some _ one _ ?”

He flushes, looking away with a petulant frown. “It’s not like that.”

“You speak highly of him.” Her words linger in the silence, the warm breeze whispering in the trees. Finally, she sighs, shifts over and drops her weight onto his chest, forcing him to lean into the tree trunk. His hand strokes her hair absently, tucking it back behind her ear as Vex begins to hum. 

“I suspect that Percival will ask me to make this marriage arrangement official at the Dawn’s Day,” he finally speaks, his words low, eyes on the clouds that drift over the moon. “He told me that he sent word to Syngorn, asking Father to attend. A show of approval of this new alliance. If… If Father comes to Whitestone, I will run with you. If he doesn’t…” 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you, brother?”

Vax gnaws his lip rather than answer. “He doesn’t know me. He knows the person I’ve built, mostly you, partially me. But every second that I spend with him, the urge to cast off this charade and ask him to keep me as I really am becomes stronger.” His arms secure around her tight, his face pressing to the top of her head. “And I am so afraid that if I do, he’ll say yes, and somehow having him will mean losing you.”

“The Dawn’s Day is in a week. People will come in from out of town to celebrate. When they leave… I’m going to buy passage with some of them. To Emon.”

It’s not a goodbye, but it tears into his heart like it is. The ache that accompanied the news of their mothers death returns with a fresh wound to his soul, throbbing and bleeding.

Leaving her as the sun rises is almost impossible, Vax’s eyes lingering on his sister, memorizing her features. They hold each other tight, foreheads pressed together, eyes locked onto each other. Since they were born, they’ve barely been apart. Never as far away in body as Emon is from Whitestone. Never as far away as him offering his whole heart to another person.

* * *

He sits on the small stool Percy has brought into the workshop for him, his hands idle in his lap. Days of being distracted, irritable, distant… Yet here he is, watching Percy work, admiring the strong muscles of his back that are usually kept hidden under stiff coats and silken shirts. Vax lifts his hand to his mouth, chews on his nail until blood wells under it. He sucks the finger instead, drops it back to his lap when Percy turns to him.

The mask shielding his face rises, revealing skin still turned red by the heat of the forge, streaked with sweat. Percy sets aside his tools, strips off his thick gloves and crosses the room to Vax’s seat. “Is something wrong, Vex?”

“No?” He leans into the hand that cups his cheek, feels the thumb slide across his face under his eye.

“You’re crying, dearest.”

He touches his own face slowly, surprised, quickly wipes at his eyes. “The Dawn’s Day is tomorrow…” Vax starts, feeling his heart throb, feeling his throat open to spill forth the truth. He wants Percy, he can’t deny it. He wants the tenderness and the care and the soft words of how beautiful he is, and he wants them to be about  _ him _ , not the Vex’ahlia he’s turned himself into.

“Your father still hasn’t responded,” Percy finishes the thought, kissing his forehead gently. “I know how much you wished to see him, to know of his approval of our arrangement… Perhaps something happened to his courier, and he’ll still come.”

He wants to scream, wants to tell Percival in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t give a rat’s  _ ass _ about his father. As far as he’s concerned the old man can choke on it. The Dawn’s Day will not be his day of celebration but of mourning, regardless of who shows up. He’ll lose half of his world if Vex leaves and his entire heart if he goes with her. “Perhaps…” He sniffs, wipes his face again and forces a smile. “I didn’t mean to distract you from your work. I can leave, if you prefer.”

“I’m almost done here. Just let me clean up and… Well, there’s something I should… We’ll take a walk together, okay?”

He washes his face in Percy’s bathing chamber, has Keyleth run and bring him his make up while Percy washes himself. It’s a shame to see the bared muscles disappear under stiff clothing, but Vax knows they’re there, thinks of running his hands down that back and feeling those arms around him, a pleasant shiver tracking up his spine.

They walk along empty halls in the castle, past rows of family portraits that go back more than a dozen generations. Percy stops at the last one, a family of many surrounding a man with a jovial smile. As Vax scans each face, the familiarity within them, he suddenly understands.

“That’s you,” he whispers, finger pointing to one of the boys in the picture. Standing regal and proud behind the man who must be his father, between another boy who’s scant inches taller and a girl of the same height. There are others, a girl and a boy that stand nearly identical and make his heart ache for his own sister. A small figure sat upon the father’s lap and in the mother’s arms was a bundle of an infant.

“A great sickness took my family when I was young…” Percy’s voice is low, almost reverent, but there’s something practiced about the words. As if he’s recited them many times. “My brothers fell to it, then my sisters, then my mother and father. It passed among all of the de Rolos, as if some vengeful spirit were trying to snuff out our line. Whitestone fell into a dark time of mourning as the first death was announced, then the second… They sent healers from the temple, called for those farther away… By the time I fell ill, it was almost certain that the de Rolos would no longer rule Whitestone… I was thirteen.

“But they say a miracle happened, on Winter’s Crest. The Sun Tree, which had withered as the family became ill that harvest season, suddenly burst into full greenery. A Cleric of Sarenrae, a kind gnome woman named Pike, had come to meet with the head of the temple of Pelor. When she rested under the tree and placed a blessing beside it, it brought new life to it… And to me. She was brought to the castle immediately, sat beside me and prayed as I lay small and sick… And I survived.” He turns to Vax, lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles lightly. “Vex’ahlia… As I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve felt it more and more. Political obligations mean nothing compared to the feeling that has been growing inside me. I love you, and tomorrow at the Dawn’s Day, I’d like to ask your hand in marriage in front of the entirety of Whitestone. I have a duty to my family line to continue it, and I’d like to do so with you. If you’ll have me.”

His heart catches in his throat for a moment, locking words in place. He wants to give it to this man, to give himself entirely… But it’s not him who Percy is in love with. It’s never been him. He can’t accept this false love, all he can do is…

Vax steps forward, leans close and presses his lips to Percy’s. Brief, chaste, a little shy. He reaches up, strokes a hand gently through white-blond hair (and so curious how it’s appeared on someone so young, who was brunet as a child) and lets arms envelope him. “I want to say yes…”

“Then say yes to me. Become my beloved, my one and only. Do it not for obligation but for the sake of what the two of us may create together. Rebuild together.” The arms around him are as strong as he has imagined, fierce and protective… But possessive. He doesn’t feel loved in this embrace but coveted. Owned. 

Regret on his face, Vax pulls away. “Let me think on it, Percival. I will tell you in the morning.” He frees himself from the grasp, holds his skirts up an inch and walks swiftly away.

It’s too much to consider right now.

* * *

He wraps the cloak around himself, flipping the hood up and holding it tight for a moment, his eyes on the window. Vex will be out there. Together they’ll run away, to Emon, to Wildemount, to wherever their whims take them. They can survive together, two against the world.

In Whitestone he’ll leave all but the most necessary possessions… and his heart. His gaze drifts back to the door, to the urge to say goodbye. The sun hasn’t quite set yet, he could…

Vax takes a seat at the desk, pulling forth paper and quill. The note he writes is short, to the point. Anything longer and he fears what emotions he’ll reveal.

_ Percival, _

_ I’ve truly grown to love you, but for this very reason I cannot stay. The person that you’ve fallen for has been a lie since the beginning. _

_ Do not take this as ill will from Syngorn. This was my own foolhardy decision and lack of foresight. _

_ I ask that you do not pursue me. In Whitestone, in your hands, I leave my heart with the understanding that after this you may not want it. I don’t intend to return and ask for it back. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I love you. _

He hesitates at the bottom of the page, exhales slowly, then leaves it unsigned. A second note, briefer, he writes out and leaves under it.

_ K _

_ Thank you for everything. _

_ V _

They both feel inadequate, but they’ll have to do. The sun is down, his single candle burning in the window. Vax blows it out with a puff of breath, opens the pane and begins his journey down the side of the castle. 

“Well now.” A voice freezes his movements, his hands almost slipping from the familiar holds. “This is hardly the proper way for our half-elven maiden to go for a moonlit walk.”

A hand grasps his arm still ten feet up from the ground and he does let go, feels himself freefall before darkness swallows him and Vax knows no more.

* * *

In his own home, in his own bed, he did not expect to be awoken by an arrow pointed at his face. Percy lets out a cry, jerking backwards on the bed and staring into the face of the stranger in his room.

“Shhh…” Elven or half-elven, female, long brown hair and something familiar in her features, in her eyes. “What have you done with my brother?”

He swallows, raises his hands slowly and tries to keep his voice steady. The first attempt at words squeaks from his throat and he clears it, tries again. “Who… Who is your brother?”

“Your betrothed.”

The confusion rushes through him, the words not connecting. Each word makes sense individually, but-- “Vex’ahlia?”

“That’s the name he’s been using since he got here. Now where is he?”

“She--he--the room down the hall, I can show you, I don’t-- _ brother _ ?” The arrow is still pointed at him but he moves anyways, stands as the woman in his room backs towards the door. He should shout for Grog, for help, but this is all too sudden, too overwhelming. How did she even get  _ in _ ?

“Wrong answer, Percival. I saw him climbing out the window and then someone grabbed him. What, did you take him to the dungeons for trying to escape?” Her breath pauses, back to the door as there’s a knock. She moves swiftly, silently, to the side and nods him to the door, barely breathing out the words. “Make them leave.”

“Yes?” Confusion still lingers in his words, easy to mistake for sleep.

“Percy?” Grog’s voice on the other side of the door, the handle shaking for a moment. “Is everything alright? Think I heard a yell. An’ how come your door won’t open?”

He glances to the woman with the weapon trained on him, swallows and puts the right affect to his voice. Sleepy, confused, a little worried. “Must have been having a nightmare. It’s fine, Grog.”

There’s a chuckle through the thick wood, a low murmur of voice. “Right then. G’night.” Stillness before the faint sound of a door shutting somewhere else.

Percy turns to her, his eyes narrowed. “Put that thing down, please. I did nothing to Vex’ahlia. She--he?--went to bed early after we had a… conversation this afternoon and I went about my business.” He drops to sit on the edge of the bed, frowning down at the floor between his feet. “Tell me what you saw. Perhaps it’s a misunderstanding?”

“What I saw was someone from your palace, some man, grab my brother and drag him away towards that bloody hedge maze on the eastern side. What I  _ saw _ was this.” She finally lowers the bow, crosses the room and shoves a paper into his hand. 

Percy skims the note in the moonlight, his heart pounding faster. He reads it twice more, looks up and slowly sets it aside. “You’re sure that she--that your brother wrote this?”

“Very certain. He tries to leave and you haul him away to the dungeons?”

“I’d do no such thing. Tell me more about the person that grabbed… grabbed him. Tell me what you saw.” 

For a wonder, she seems to believe him. She sits down next to him on the bed, begins to describe what transpired as she watched from the trees. It takes only a moment for Percy to come to his conclusion.

“Sylas.”

* * *

The center of the hedge maze.

It comes back to him in fits and starts, the winding paths, the twists and turns. Keyleth behind him, laughing at every dead end they find. His question, what’s in the center, and her answer, it’s a surprise.

Finding it, crossing the threshold to the center of the maze. The shrine, temple, whatever it is. The chill in his blood when he’d stepped a foot onto it. The voice, Delilah Briarwood, telling him he’s better off leaving it alone.

Vax gasps in a breath as he’s dropped to the ice cold stone, a single pinprick of moonlight passing through the center of the dome overhead. It’s cold here, so much colder than the eve of Dawn’s Day should be. He tries to curl inward, to wrap himself in his cloak for warmth, and finds his body unresponsive.

“Hello, darling…” That voice, familiar, soft… cold. His eyes track around, find Delilah Briarwood standing over his head. She leans down, brushes his hair back and smiles as sharp as a knife. “You’re going to do us a great favor tonight.”

“The darkest hours come just before dawn…” Sylas Briarwood steps up, wields a wickedly curved blade over him. “So let’s snuff that light out forever.”

His muscles tense, strain, try to let him shout or flee. Something, anything, to get away from this situation, from these people. Over him, the Briarwoods begin to chant, to mutter incantations that make his skin crawl.

It starts slowly, from under him. Light, brilliantly bright white that rivals the moon. Rising from the cracks between the stones, spiraling outward. Across the smooth gravel of the center of the hedge maze, into the hedges themselves. They glow with pinpricks of white that become larger, slowly consume the entire maze.

“Now, husband!” Delilah commands and Vax heaves in a breath, feels his body become his own again as Sylas brings the blade down towards his chest. He rolls to the side, feels it pierce his arm. The rush of blood drips off his skin, lands where he had lain and, in an instant, darkness overtakes them.

Every inch of the glowing white light turns black, snuffs out in a blink. Slowly it returns, red, pulsing… Vax scrambles away, reaches for hs daggers as Delilah Briarwood screams.

“What have you done?! What are you?!” Her wrath strikes him with physical force, shoves him into the trembling pillar that holds up the shrine and pins him there. 

This is the end, he thinks, as Sylas approaches with the blade, presses it under his neck. Whatever this has been, this is where it ends… His mind reaches, calls out for those that he loves. Keyleth and Pike, Scanlan and Grog, Percival… his sister. Her voice that he’ll never hear again.

There’s a small cry somewhere nearby, distant to his ache. A shout, he can almost hear Vex’s voice, strong and proud.

“Let my brother go, you  _ bastard _ !”

The force holding him to the pillar releases, the knife no longer at his throat. Vax drops to his knees, looks around with confusion. He grasps one of his daggers, surges upward and drives it into Sylas’s back when the man turns. Over Sylas’s shoulder he sees Delilah, an arrow sticking out of her delicate throat.

“Get down!” The shout barely precedes the roar of the gun, Grog not there to cover his ears this time. Vax ducks low, watches as the majority of Sylas’s arm disintegrates, what’s left shrouded in cracking ice. His ears are ringing and he can see Delilah trying to scream, can see blood welling around the arrow in her throat.

Blood had started this eerie pulsing red. His blood. He rushes forward, shoves both of the Briarwoods off the stone of the shrine. “Don’t bleed on it!” He calls to no one, to everyone. 

A hand grasps his arm, hauls him to his feet and he looks, feels relief wash through him as Keyleth gives him a smile. “Are you okay, Vax?”

“It’s some sort of ritual, they need blood, they were… the darkness, they want to bring some sort of darkness--”

“They’re summoning something. I saw it from the air.” Keyleth lets him go, folds her hands together and focuses. Around them, the hedges move, break apart and reform. The pulses of red grow weaker. She braces herself, draws back and juts her arm forward, sending the shrine toppling.

To his side the Briarwoods lay, being approached by two people--three--five. Vax’s eyes widen, seeing his sister, her bow drawn, her focus intent on Sylas Briarwood. Beside her, Percy presses his gun to Delilah’s head. What are they doing here? How did they even get here?

“Give it up, you two. Whatever you’re planning, it’s over.”

“How…” Delilah wheezes out the word around a mouthful of blood, her eyes darting over to Vax. “ _ How _ ?”

He slides the cloak from his shoulders, one hand pressing over the wound on his arm. Dressed as he is there’s no mistaking him. Even with his long hair, even with the soft moonlight. Vax raises his chin high, lips curling into a smirk. “Must just have someone looking out for me.” He slips the token of Sarenrae from his sleeve, flips it like a coin and tucks it away again. 

The others are staring at him, he realizes. Pike with something like pride (“I knew she’d protect you,” she’ll admit to him one day). Scanlan utterly aghast (“ _ how _ ,” he’ll ask much later, again and again). Grog perplexed (“wait so…” he may or may not actually put it together). Keyleth apologetic (“I should have known…” and there’s no words to ease her conscience).

Percival with an emotion he can’t put his finger on, one he doesn’t want to linger on for too long (later, he says nothing still).

And Vex’ahlia. His sister. His twin. The other half of his soul. She looks at him with worry, with fear, with love. Her eyes track the small drip of blood that still falls down his arm from the wound and fury overtakes her gaze. She turns back to Sylas Briarwood, her lips moving, words he can’t hear (“you hurt my  _ brother _ ,” she’ll repeat later). At this range there’s no missing, the arrow that pierces his eye socket and into his skull instantly fatal.

“Sylas!” Delilah chokes out the cry, wrenches herself out from under Percy’s gun and throws herself onto her husband. Blood and tears stain her face, her eyes furious as she turns to him. “You… You…!”

“It’s over,” Vax whispers as the first rays of sunlight touch the eastern sky. “The dawn always comes.” His dagger is swift, his aim true. It lands just above his sister’s arrow in her neck, cuts through flesh and sends a gout of blood across the ground. 

He crosses the ground slowly, picks up the bloody weapon and wipes it clean on his shirt. Vex’s arms wrap around him almost before he can put it away, her hands grasping his face, holding him close so she can look into his eyes. “You’re okay… You’re okay…”

“I’m okay…” he agrees, setting his hands over hers, feeling his knees buckle. They both drop to the ground, hold each other tighter as the new day dawns.


	5. Chapter 5

Streamers and ribbons, colorful lanterns, spreads of food and crafts. Vax walks among the Dawn’s Day festival with his sister at his side, breathing easy and moving comfortably. There’s no need to disguise himself, to keep her hidden. He prefers it.

Nearby he can see Grog, tall among the denizens of Whitestone, giving a mass of children a ride on his shoulders. They point him in different directions and he spins with it, laughter bellowing above the general noise of the crowd. Keyleth follows him at a short distance, her staff clearing a path for Pike and Scanlan to make way through the crowd.

Percival hasn’t joined them for this morning’s beginning celebration. Vax hasn’t seen him since they all staggered into the castle, following as Keyleth tore down the hedge maze one row at a time. Perhaps it’s for the better.

There’s a different air in Whitestone, something he felt as soon as he woke up, a bare three hours of sleep all he could manage. Vax’s steps hesitate, his hand grasping his sister’s arm and stilling her.

“Something wrong, brother?”

“No… Quite the opposite.” The lightness in the air, the warmth, as if some lingering darkness has been dispelled from this place… He slips the token of Sarenrae from his sleeve, flips it in the air and catches it. “This way.”

They wind to the Sun Tree, its branches green with leaves, colorful with decorations. Many others have left tokens there, gifts for Pelor, blessings and gratitudes. Vax has never considered himself religious, but he kneels down regardless, touches the rough bark at the wide base of the tree with one hand while the other holds the token with Sarenrae’s blessing.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his head down. “For saving him. For saving me. For giving both of us a second chance.” He sets the token on the ground in front of the tree, waits for the light that had come with it to fade. Nothing about him changes, the token gleaming in the morning sun. Vax stands again, nods once to the tree before returning to his sister.

The others pull the two of them to join the head table for the noon meal, fill in two of the four vacant seats. They’ll handle the Briarwoods on another day, the fallout of political upheaval. Today is meant for celebration, for community, for light.

He spots Percival approach as plates of food begin to be passed down, holds his breath as the man walks past without a look. There are dark circles under his eyes, speaking of exhaustion. Vax wants to go to him, to offer some sort of comfort in all of this. Instead he focuses on his meal, on the speeches made during the course of it. When he looks up again Percy is gone, Grog also missing. Back to the castle, if he had to guess.

Festivities continue throughout the long day, not slowing down as the sun begins to set. The hanging lanterns around the city are lit one by one, bringing the soft glow of daylight to every street corner. Vax finds his eyes drifting to the castle, looking cold and empty with no light glowing from its windows. He feels pulled there, the urge once again to seek out Percy, to be with him… But that isn’t his place anymore.

The streets are emptying as the moon rises high in the air, children long since sent to bed, adults following in the knowledge that tomorrow will come early. Vax finds himself alone under the Sun Tree, most of those he knows--his sister, the group from the castle--not too far away, helping the last remaining vendors clean up. He touches the tree again, closes his eyes.

“Look out for him, okay?”

“I thought talking to trees was a Keyleth thing.”

The voice startles him, body tensing even as he registers that it’s Percy. He still looks wrecked but there’s the curve of a smile on his lips. Vax looks away quickly, drawing his cloak around himself.

“How are you?”

“Tired. Concerned. Clear-headed. How are you… Vax’ildan?”

Hearing his name on those lips sends his heartbeat racing again, his gaze darting over to Percy. He can speak as himself, doesn’t have to hide or pretend, and it’s the most terrifying thing that he’s ever been through. “I’m… good. My sister and I are leaving. In the morning. To Emon.”

A hand touches his arm, slides up to his shoulder. “And do you leave your heart here, as you said in your letter?”

The letter. Percy read the letter. Vax’s cheeks flush red, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I do…”

“Then…” The hand on his shoulder moves, brushes his hair back behind his ear before gently holding his chin, tilting his head up. “Then you will always be welcome to come back to Whitestone.” Their eyes lock, their faces close. Vax wants to lean in, close the distance, taste a kiss on this man’s lips without the barrier of lies between them.

“I love you,” he whispers instead, steps closer and lets arms envelope him. Comforting. Warm. Safe. There’s no cold possessiveness to them this time. “I would have said yes…”

“If you return, I’d like to get to know you. The real you. And… see if I want to ask again, once I do.” Warm lips press to his forehead and Vax wraps his arms around Percy, holds tight. Hot tears burn his eyes but he won’t let them fall.

* * *

They leave at sunrise, passage bought on a wagon to Emon. Vax looks over his shoulder as the castle recedes, feels the tug of longing for it. He turns back, reaches down and clasps his sister’s hand firmly in his. 

“We’ll come back here one day, won’t we?”

Vex looks him over, reaches up and brushes his hair away. “Vax…” She exhales, pure frustration. “Do you know how much I paid for us to get this ride?”

“No?” He tilts his head, frowns as she stands and begins grabbing their things. She shoves a bag into his arms, leaping over the side of the wagon.

“Too much for you to change your mind before we’re even out of the mountains. Come on.” A loud whistle pierces the air, a roar answering it from the woods. The bear that comes charging out startles the horses into a bolt and Vax nearly falls as he leaps from the wagon.

“That damn bear of yours…” He can hear their driver shouting something back at them, fading as the horses continue their panicked run down the path. 

“Oh, shut up, he’s a perfect, precious baby…” Vex ruffles Trinket’s fur, climbing onto the bear’s back and holding a hand out to him. “Come on, brother. I can’t stand the thought of you moping until we return to Whitestone. Let’s go get your future husband.”

He’ll take the good-natured jabs from his sister, Vax decides as he climbs onto the bear. Just facing towards Whitestone again, knowing he’s returning, starts to fill the hollow place that had been growing inside of him as they packed up that morning.

There’s no reason to leave when they’ve finally found a home somewhere.


End file.
